Atonement
by Henrietta
Summary: Every night I prayed for forgiveness, for God to show me how I could atone for my sin.


Title: Atonement

Author: Henrietta

Summary: Every night I prayed for forgiveness, for God to show me how I could atone for my sin.

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Brenda Hampton, Aaron Spelling and probably some folks over at the WB. I have absolutely no desire to make any money off this.

Notes: Annie's neglect of, and general disinterest in, Sam and David has inspired much discussion over at the TWoP forums. While the real story likely lies in the writers' inability to come up with story ideas for the twins, as well as the logistical difficulties of working with such young children, that doesn't really make for an interesting fic. The following is a look at one possible motivation for Annie's behavior. Please be aware that it deals, though not graphically, with a sensitive and controversial subject. My intent is not to make judgements about the morality of that choice, or those who have made it, but rather to look at how Annie, with her somewhat primitive perception of God, might deal with the aftermath of her decision.

Thanks: Many thanks to Kelzen for the beta.

-----

April 1974

I'm not going to cry.

"Annie Jackson?"

The other patients look away as I stand up and follow the nurse down the hallway. She leads me into a small room, hands me a paper gown and leaves.

The buttons on my shirt reluctantly yield to my shaking fingers. I pull on the gown and place the shirt and jeans neatly on the chair. There is a clipboard laying on the table. I pick it up and slowly read the paper on it.

The doctor enters in a rush. "Annie Jackson?" he asks.

I nod.

"How old are you Miss Jackson?"

"Sixteen" I mumble.

"Do you understand what is going to happen?"

"Yes" I answer. The tears are so close now, I bite my lip to keep them at bay.

The doctor gives me a weary look. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

I can taste the blood from my lip as I draw a shaky breath and slowly look up at him.

"Yes"

"The nurse will be in shortly to get you ready," he says with a sigh.

The door clicks shut and I am alone again.

----

I'm so cold.

The table feels like ice. I want to say something, ask for a blanket, but the words don't come.

Despite the chill, the room is stifling. It feels like all the air is slowly being forced out, as if a giant weight is pressing on me. I can barely breathe.

With my eyes shut tightly, the sounds in the room are magnified. The clank of the instruments, the whir of the machine, the nurse's murmured reassurances, all seem garishly loud. The pounding in my ears is loudest of all, each beat echoing through my head.

And then, silence.

Sunlight filters in through a small window high on the wall, bathing the sheet in vibrant colors. For a moment, time seems to stand still as I'm dazzled by the light. In that moment, I am as I was before, pure and innocent, a child of God, with a lifetime of possibilities stretching out before me like a ribbon.

Oh God, what have I done?

----

The interior of the church is dark and cool, the massive oak doors shutting out the sights and sounds of the outside world. My footsteps echo through the empty sanctuary as I walk up the aisle. Dipping slightly as I pass the altar, I make my way to the far corner and slip into the pew.

I sit in silence for what seems like hours, trying to find the words to pray for the forgiveness I so desperately seek. The prayers of my childhood are too weak to lift the enormous weight of sin that I bear.

_Oh God, I'm so sorry._

Sorry? Sorry is for dropping a dish on the floor or forgetting to take out the trash. I am beyond sorry now.

_I wish I could take it back, please let me take it back._

But there is nothing left to take back, is there? It is gone and I am empty.

_It hurts so much. I didn't think it would hurt this much. _

It should hurt. It's what I deserve. It should hurt forever.

_Please God, I didn't mean to do this. I was so stupid. Please let me make it right. _

How could I possibly make this right? How could I ever, ever make this right?

_I'll do anything God, just please forgive me. Please give me another chance._

----

April 2004

_Mommy, we're hungwy._

_Mommy, our tummy hurts._

_Mommy..._

_Mommy..._

Two expectant faces, one lisping voice. Little hands tug at my pant legs, wide eyes looking up at me with a child's unshakable faith that Mommy will make it better.

I don't want to make it better. I don't want to kiss away owies or wipe off sticky fingers or dry tears. Some days I don't even want to look at them. Some days I wish they had never been born.

----

They screamed for weeks, their tiny faces scrunched up and beet red. I couldn't console them, couldn't soothe them to sleep like my other babies. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with them, what was wrong with me. I couldn't figure out why I didn't care.

I thought it would be better when they stopped crying, that I would feel for them like I had for their brothers and sisters. I thought that if I tried hard enough, I could love them like I was supposed to. I wanted to love them, but I couldn't.

----

When I sat in that church so many years ago and begged God to give me a chance to atone for my sin, I knew that it would, _should_, take a long time to earn forgiveness. When He led me to Eric, when He gave me a beautiful son, Matthew, I was sure that that was my path to redemption. When He sent me Mary, and then Lucy, and Simon and Ruthie, I knew that my penance wasn't complete, that I still had more work to do.

For twenty-five years, I was a good mother, a good wife, a good friend and neighbor. I raised five children to know God and live as He taught. I was faithful to my husband and supported his ministry as if it were my own. I opened my home and my kitchen to anyone who needed a hot meal or a safe place to stay. Every night I prayed for forgiveness, for God to show me how I could atone for my sin.

Eight years and Ruthie was still my youngest child. I thought I had done what He wanted. I thought that I was forgiven. Then _they_ were born.

----

I wonder sometimes if they know how I feel. Do they know what I see when I look at them? Do they know that their smiles, their happy chatter, their little blond heads bent over their toys, are a constant reminder that all of the good that I've done will never be enough to atone for a terrible mistake I made when I was just a child? Do they know that I can't love them like they deserve?

They need someone to protect them and watch over them, to make them healthy meals, to teach them how to get dressed, how to speak clearly. They need someone to play with them and tell them stories. They need someone to hug them and chase away their fears.

They need someone to tell them that they are loved.

----

Every night I listen to their prayers, and when the house is finally quiet, I lay in bed next to my husband and offer up my own. They're not the desperate, frantic pleas of those first few months, not the contrite apologies of the years that followed, or the anguished questions of just a few years past. My prayers are simple now.

I ask for health and safety for my family and friends. I ask God to be with those in the church and community who are struggling. I offer thanks for the blessings He has shown those around me.

I ask Him to watch over two small blond boys, to show them the love and care I cannot.

I don't ask for forgiveness anymore. After so many years, I finally understand that there are some things that just can't be forgiven.


End file.
